Here on Sundays
by iamextraordinary
Summary: DHr. Canon AND Alternate Universe.I'm here on Sundays at three in the afternoon. If...
1. The Bench In the Garden: Beginning Anew

This is an edited version of the first chapter--- thank you to mrs accio-firebolt for her insightful review.

Thanks also to Rahnee and to my best best friend, Jamie for their kind words and feedback.

I changed the timeframe--- the incident on the tower happened two years back and Harry and the crew have been Horcrux-hunting etc since.

**Hello! This is a mix of canon and my own alternate D/Hr reality... This is my first attempt at D/Hr fiction and i'd like very much to read your feedback. It isn't a one-shot exactly... I'm not sure what to call it. Suffice to say, they WILL meet again. The bench in question is from the movie, Notting Hill. The plaque reads: **

**"For June, who loved this garden... From Joseph who always sat beside her."**

**The players are OOC but really, a war and a new life can change people dramatically. **

**This is my 'Why Not' fantasy... I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing.**

**Beginning Anew**

**Perth**, 2 in the morning.

She walked slowly through the moonlit garden, watching as the silver beams danced across the verdant, dark green lawn. Shadows changed shape and form as clouds made their way to and fro in the star-filled sky. The air was fresh, crisp, like the first few minutes of a summer shower. This was her favorite place, and her favorite time of the night. The darkness appealed to her and the moon was high enough in the sky to allow her safe passage as she walked to the bench that had called to her since the day she had watched that Muggle movie with her Mum.

Her eyes made out the bench and she upped her pace. It had caught her attention in the movie, but when she had finally found the time to come see it for herself, she had been amazed at the peace that came over her as she simply sat there. She ran her hands lovingly over the words engraved on the plaque and wondered for the millionth time how it would feel to have that kind of devotion in her life. Sighing wistfully and shaking her head, she slid her hand over the top of the seat back and sat with one of her legs curled under her. She rested her cheek on the arm stretched over the top of the bench and closed her eyes, letting the peace of the night envelop her.

He swung over the top of the gate effortlessly, his feet hitting the ground with an almost feline grace. He breathed in the cool summer air as he moved quickly through the dark path. His night had been filled with wine, women and song, the perfect bachelor evening... but like every other night, he needed to clear his head before making his way home. He had stumbled on the garden a few weeks back when he was escaping from a particularly clingy date. If he had still been in the Wizarding World, he would have simply apparated away... but since he had chosen to exile himself after the Incident on the tower, he had not performed any magic at all. He missed it, of course, but he also felt a sense of accomplishment for surviving for over a year without magical support. He could do the dishes by himself now.

Whistling a soft Muggle tune, he buried his hands in the slits of his hoodie sweater and made his way to 'his spot'. He was so engrossed in his thoughts that he failed to notice the person already occupying the bench. She was not as unobservant.

"Draco?" a soft voice jarred him out of his thoughts and he gaped at the person before him, as if he had never seen another human being before in his life.

"Draco, what are you doing here?" she asked again, rising from her spot on the bench. HIS spot.

"I--- uhmm... that's mine..." came his eloquent answer as he gestured to the bench in a confused manner.

"Really? Who is June, and wherever did you find the inspiration to name yourself Joseph?" she said as she smiled at him gently, taking in his obviously confused face and manner.

"Oh-I--NO. What I meant was..." he sighed, giving up totally, and plonked himself down on the bench. HIS spot.

"That's okay. We can share." she offered magnanimously, as she sat back down in the same position only she was facing him this time, her eyes watching his every move.

Neither spoke for a long moment as they both tried to recapture the solitude that they had both come to the garden to find.

Draco cracked first. "So, uhmm... Hermione... how have you been?" he ventured, as he watched the crease in his jeans shift with his every nervous movement.

"I've been o-kay, considering the culmination of the war is fast approaching." she smiled sadly as he gave a visible start at her words. "You've been away a long time, Malfoy."

"It seems like only yesterday Granger."

"Will you ever come back?" her eyes searched his out, and he met her gaze unflinchingly. This was his turf now. Nothing to be scared about any longer.

"I don't know really. I'm happy here, Hermione. I live a useful life." he stretched his arms over his head and arched his back against the wooden support.

She stared off into the distance at his words, "Yes, I can see the appeal in working for a non-magical entity. Tell me, though, don't you miss it?"

It was his turn to smile sadly... "Everyday."

They sat there in silence, mulling over each other's words, their thoughts too personal to share with each other.

It was true, what Hermione said, the war was almost over, there was nothing stopping him from rejoining their world. However, did he want to go back?

She was the first to break the silence this time, "I wonder how it would feel to have a Joseph in my life. To have someone who loved me so much that he would continue to honor me even after I passed on..."

"When did we change?" he asked her quietly, "Two years ago, I would have called you names... and you would have hexed me even before I could open my mouth. We would never have willingly shared ANYTHING before."

"We grew up, Draco. You've lived in my former world for years now and I've been more than exposed to the realities of the world that we once shared. We've changed, you and I... and I think that it's all been for the better, circumstances being what they are." her hand crept out and grasped him by the hand he so loosely curled around the top of the bench.

"Tell me more about what's been happening Hermione. I've been away so long..." it pained Draco to admit his feeling of loss to her, but he knew that time would eventually heal all hurts... he just needed to start opening them up again so they could begin anew at last.

"All right. Harry, Ron and I have been on special assignment since the start of what was supposed to be our seventh year. Before Professor Dumbledore died, he gave Harry a task to complete and we've been doing our best to help him finish it. The Wizarding World isn't safe these days. There have been so many arrests and so many deaths... so many have switched sides, not knowing who to trust and who to blame." her voice hitched in her throat at this point, and she had to clear her throat before continuing.

"Luna and Neville have been trying to continue the fight on Hogwarts grounds... they taught and still mentor new DA members... but they're losing rather badly. Professor Snape- he's headmaster now- has installed a fearful regime of intimidation, far worse than anything Umbridge could have done. He's brought in Death Eaters as professors and Muggle born witches and wizards are no longer allowed within our school walls."

"V-He Who Must Not be Named has found an ingenious way of keeping track of insurgents--- every time someone says his name, his followers can sense it and Apparate to the location immediately. He understood, you see, that only those truly dedicated to the cause would be courageous enough to utter his name."

Draco sighed and ran his hands over his face, trying to wipe away the exhaustion that threatened to overcome him, "So much has changed. How can I ever go back there?"

The point is, Draco, that we can try--- are trying, actually--- to make it into a world that we can all come home again. That is what this rebellion is all about. We want change not only for ourselves, but for those who have grown up in so much fear, that they know no better. We all deserve a chance at happiness... and it's up to those who are willing to fight to restore that joy to others."

"What about those of us who believe in the cause, but have no more strength to fight?" he whispered, raking a hand over his platinum head.

"There is always strength to be found in each one of us, Draco. The choice lies in whether or not we should use it or ignore it." Hermione glanced at her watch and sighed, "I have to go."

Draco whipped his head around, concern etched on his feautures, "This final battle, will it be soon?"

"Sooner than you can imagine." she replied, running an affectionate hand over his military-cut hair, "I'm glad that I got to see you grow up, ferret."

He gave her a wry smile, "I wish I could have done it a lot sooner, Granger." he stood up and walked with her to the garden entrance. Before she left, he turned her around and embraced her, holding her lithe little form close to him, trying to remember her warmth. "Sunday afternoons around three."

She gave him a bemused smile, disentangling herself from his arms in the process, "Pardon?"

"I'm here on Sunday afternoons around three in the afternoon. I just--- If you ever need someone..."

"Thank you, Draco." with a kiss pressed softly to his cheek, she was gone.


	2. Eggs on a Sunday

**A/N **I'm sorry for the late update. Writer's block. Plus I really really need a beta. Someone to nag me and critique my work. PM me if you're interested.

**HERE ON SUNDAYS**

She stood under the tree, trying to catch her breath. A pale head could be seen leaning on the arm rest of the bench in front of her. If only she could reach it. Aware of the eyes glancing her way in shock she reached out an arm and fell.

Draco closed his eyes and let the peace of the afternoon wash over him. The warm sun beat down on a verdant green lawn, he could hear children laughing and playing. Sunday was a time for relaxation, and for others, a time to spend with their families. He always enjoyed watching the different families interact. It brought him comfort that not all families were like his, seduced by the dark.

The warm afternoon air washed over him in waves, so he placed his book gently on the grass beside him and closed his eyes. It had been three weeks since he had met her here. He had thought constantly about going back, but he knew deep down that he couldn't, not until it was over. He had no problem with going over to the other side, but the thought of facing his own parents in battle... he couldn't do it.

As he continued with his musings, a distinct pop could be heard behind him... he didn't turn around, thinking it was just another kid with a popped balloon. He braced himself for the crying. There was always crying.

Nothing. Just a few shocked gasps (over a balloon? He puzzled) and a rustling of grass as something fell on the ground, hard.

Turning quickly, he let out a cry of disbelief at the sight of a blood soaked Hermione lying on the ground behind the bench. The pop. She had apparated. In her condition. Oh Merlin.

He quickly scooped her into his arms and made his way to the gate of the park. He left his book lying beside the bench, knowing that he could probably make his way back later in the evening and it would still be there. Who would want a book written in French anyway? No pictures for the little kiddies, too.

He was stopped by concerned Muggles before he could make his way out. They said they were doctors. He could see a little boy peeking out at him with brown eyes so like Hermione's and his heart constricted painfully. Shaking his head, he made his way outside the park and ran into a side alley. Without a second thought, he gently pried her wand from her fingers and apparated into the cottage that he had been letting since he had arrived.

He laid her gently on his bed and ran into the bathroom to get medical supplies. She was unconscious. He had to act fast. Grabbing a pair of scissors from the first aid kit, he opened her blood soaked robes and looked over the damage. He could see bruises all over her body as well as cuts that crisscrossed over her white skin. The real damage however, was done by a nasty -looking gash near her stomach. It was a jagged wound four inches long and half an inch wide. He winced at the damage and tried to open the bottle of antiseptic. It was stuck. In a fit of rage, he threw the bottle across the room and it pinged off the far wall as he buried his head in his hands. What was he going to do?

'I can't let her go like this. What do—oh damn.' he hit his head on the bed—hard. "I am such an idiot. I'm a wizard for Merlin's sake." he muttered as he closed his eyes and rapidly thought of the non-verbal spells he knew that could help heal her. Closing his eyes and concentrating, he placed his hands over the four-inch wound and felt a warm flow go from his hands into the woman lying in front of him.

Opening his eyes, he saw a faint scar where the wound used to be and with her wand, he did a quick once-over to make sure she had no more serious injuries that needed immediate attention. Once relieved of that worry he undressed her, only leaving her undergarments on, and retrieved the antiseptic to start treating her wounds. He was used to doing the things the Muggle way these days.

After he finished treating her wounds, he washed her body of the grime it had accumulated from being on the park ground and from the obvious battle or attack she had just undergone. He then dressed her in one of his shirts and some boxers. Burying his face in his hands for the second time that day, he crouched beside her sleeping form and rubbed his face wearily. When he had said "If you ever need someone" he sure as hell wasn't expecting her to show up bruised and bloody. They would need to talk about that. Yes, as soon as she woke up.

Hermione saw a man coming for her and she flailed her arms, refusing to go without a fight. The figure shouted her name and she could feel the fight leave her bones. She knew that voice. Why did she know that voice?

Draco felt a hand swat the back of his head and he awoke with a start, groaning at the crick in his neck, he looked around just as the hand came flying at his face. Thank Merlin he was a seeker, the blow would have been very very painful. He looked at the woman lying on his bed and saw that she was struggling against the comforter that he had wrapped her up in. Was she hot?

He tried prying the bed clothes loose, but they kept getting twisted up as her legs moved faster and faster. Merlin, if she was vertical, she'd be a shoo-in for a gold medal in a marathon. She was running in her sleep. He took in the sweat on her brow and the rapid eye movement and realized that she wasn't hot. She was having a nightmare. He had read about it in one of the magazines he had bought to educate himself about Muggle culture. She was dreaming. Something terrifying by the looks of it.

"Hermione." he said her name, hoping she would just snap out of it. "Hermione!" he tried again, louder, this time. He shook her and called her name twice more before she came to.

Hermione's eyes fluttered open as she felt hands shaking her awake. The voice called her name, and it was laced with panic and worry. Her eyes, still tired, made out a male form sitting beside her on the bed. He had gray eyes. Blond hair. Cute.

Wait a minute.

BED?!!!

"ACCIO WAND!" Hermione shouted as she simultaneously reached out her hand to take the wand mid-air and jumped to face her opponent. Not a smart move. She cracked her head on the ceiling and fell to the bed, holding her injured cranium with one hand while pointing the wand shakily at the man beside her.

"Who are you? Where am I? What am I doing here?" she shot out rapidly as she squeezed her eyes shut in pain for a brief moment. 'Ow. My head.'

"Relax, Hermione." that voice. It was that voice again. She knew that voice. It belonged to...

"Draco?" she felt tears prick behind her eyes as she opened her eyes to see his face. His familiar face. His familiar and very much ALIVE face. She launched herself into his arms and started rambling on. She talked about winning and losing at the same time, she said a lot of people died but that their deaths were not in vain. But she would not name names.

He just let her talk, but after thirty minutes and with no signs that she was going to stop any time soon, he knew he had to step in. "Hermione." she raised her eyes to his finally and she bit her lip. "Not now Draco."

He shut up with a sigh and resumed rubbing her back. At least she was quiet now. He had never met a more chatty woman. Okay, Pansy came a close second, but really... at least she was Slytherin enough not to tell him all her thoughts.

"So, where are we exactly?" she asked as she moved away from him and gathered a pillow to her chest to replace his warmth.

"St. Georges Terrace. You're in my home." he said simply as he moved to put away the medical supplies that he had forgotten to clean up. He put them back in the bath room and took a moment to wash his face of sleep before rejoining Hermione.

"Thank you for rescuing me." she smiled at him from her place on the bed.

"No problem." he made to sit beside her and lay back on the bed instead when he got there. "So what now?"

"I don't want to go back." she said firmly.

"Pardon?" he said, not quite believing the words that were coming out of her mouth.

"I'm not going back to Europe, Draco. I can't. Not for a long time. I... I can't." she whispered, at the end.

"Where are you supposed to..." his voice trailed off as her eyes raised to his and the plea in them was almost more than he could handle. Almost.

"You're kidding." now it was his turn to bite his lip.

"I'll get a job, pitch in. I did grow up as a Muggle you know. I promise not to get in the way... I can cook, clean..." she rushed headlong into promises and plans as Draco tried to wrap his head around the notion of living with a girl. A girl he had professed to hate for most his life. Someone he had promised to be there for. Damn.

"Alright." he said, cutting Hermione off as she started on her qualifications as a room mate.

"You can stay here for the time being, but I want you to promise that you will tell me the whole story before we're both in wheelchairs. Promise?" he said, in the sternest voice he could manage.

Hermione brightened immediately, "Pinky swear." she held up her pinky and Draco blinked at her incredulously. "Pinky swear? Are you serious?!!"

She gave out a pout. He frowned. Her lower lip jutted out even further and she added the eyes. He held out his pinky.

"I should have run far, far away from you three weeks ago." he grumbled as she twirled her finger around his and gave a tug.

"No use crying over spilt milk." she giggled, but it sounded forced.

"Right. Well. It's Sunday, the sun's still out and the birds are rejoicing their little avian hearts out. What do you propose we do?" he asked, she was technically his guest, after all.

Her stomach answered for her right then.

"Right. A late lunch it is." he headed to the kitchen to prepare a meal as she blushed.

She had trusted his word that he would be there, and he hadn't let her down. It was a Sunday, Voldemort was dead, and things were looking up.

She smiled to herself, Draco Malfoy was actually true to his word. What other surprises awaited her in this new place? She would just have to wait and see.

Oooh... did she smell eggs cooking?


End file.
